


a sparrow alighted upon our shoulder.

by courage_of_stars



Series: you are not alone. (i've been here the whole time singing you a song.) [2]
Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Bullying, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recovery, Romance, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courage_of_stars/pseuds/courage_of_stars
Summary: When Dani presses her lips to the scarred wrist, Jamie wonders if this is what healing feels like.---(People to assume Jamie's scars are from gardening. Some of them are.But not all of them.)
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Series: you are not alone. (i've been here the whole time singing you a song.) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058132
Comments: 19
Kudos: 116





	a sparrow alighted upon our shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mental health, past homophobia, past violence, past bullying, past self-harm, scars

Jamie's hands are not soft.

Before she hits double digits in age, Jamie busts her knuckles open. The girl wears hideous abrasions on the back of her hands. Marbled rouge. Bright vermillion. Torn hand-me-down jeans reveal skinned knees. Striking red. Deep crimson. Shades of violence raze across her body.

When neighborhood kids harass her siblings, Jamie breaks their noses. _"Cry 'Havoc!', and let slip the dogs of war."_ Swinging at kids twice her size probably isn't what Jamie's teacher has in mind when assigning Shakespeare. But Jamie still scores perfectly on tests, and does even better slamming knuckles into a kid's ribcage.

Jamie fights dirty as Hell. Nobility has no place in violence. Not in this middle-of-nowhere town. Fuck the idea of being the bigger, better person. The only rule Jamie follows is waiting until the other kid strikes first. After the first attack, it's free game. She doesn't stop until the other person can't get up. That can be knocking them out cold, spraining their ankle, or scaring the daylights out of them until they're screaming mercy.

Stifling any sounds, Jamie immerses busted knuckles and cut palms into a metal basin of hot water. Almost scorching. Dried blood peels off like macabre snowflakes in reverse. Crimson blossoms in the water. Staining everything within its reach. Jamie grits her teeth through the pain of healing. Her veins already sing a vicious symphony. Its melody hungers for the next fight.

Word gets around that Jamie fancies girls. Flocks of children spit in Jamie's face, and claim that she's possessed by the Devil. When Joey Thompson knocks Jamie's books out of her arms, Jamie kicks him square in the chest, drags the boy by his collar, and holds him over the bridge's ledge for ten seconds. When Nora Greene cuts off a lock of Jamie's hair, Jamie swipes the girl's scissors, and slashes off the rest. Long dark locks rain upon the classroom floor. The teacher shouts at Jamie to clean up the mess. Since then, Jamie's hair doesn't fall past her shoulders.

Adults try to clasp a muzzle on Jamie. Sometimes, the muzzle is a dress that looks like the newest release from a department store catalogue. In reality, the dress is another hand-me-down from the neighbor's cousin's brother-in-law's daughter. Jamie wonders if the previous owner chose this dress. Or if they were also another child to be muzzled.

Jamie doesn't mind dresses. Actually, she quite adores how a dress swirls around her like a magnificent hurricane. The rushing of fabric echoes howling winds. But apparently, there's a code of conduct attached to a clothing garment. In a marigold Peter Pan collar dress, Jamie needs to speak in a refined manner? Cross her legs? Be obedient?

Adults expect the little girl to be docile. Compliant. Subdued. Jamie just laughs. These grown-ups forget how Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone dressed beautifully while unleashing Hellfire upon the world. Erinyes, the Goddesses of vengeance and retribution, spared no one during their pursuit of justice.

Jamie's back is void of bat's wings, and her hands don't wield bloodstained scourges. But Jamie will wear that thrown-away dress, and still clench her fist before punching a kid's jaw. It's exhilarating how the dress billows when she drop kicks William Henders. The golden fabric wavers in the air, showing glimpses of bruises, scratches and scrapes worn proudly. She swears like a sailor. She laughs too loud. Jamie is the girl mothers tell their daughters never to be like, and fathers tell their sons never to marry.

Other muzzles come in the form of a lifetime in detention. Or obligatory counseling where neither the counselor nor student wants to be there. Or sitting in front of an empty plate at the dinner table. ' _Discipline.'_ That's what adults call the act of filing down her fangs.

To their dismay, Jamie spits out old, broken teeth like a Great White shark. A pleased feral smile reveals sharper fangs, glistening with venom.

By the time she's thirteen, Jamie is a force of nature impossible to tame. People learn it's best to stay away from the girl. Instead of agonizing over being alone, Jamie melts loneliness into malleable steel. Same with rage, resentment, grief, and a slew of other acerbic emotions. From the molten mess, Jamie forges armor. It's fine if the girl no longer remembers her own skin. At least, no one can hurt her anymore. Pain is an inconvenience.

And yet, pain is one of her only companions. Jamie doesn't remember when she begins hurting herself. Or why. Perhaps when violence becomes all you know, it grows into a caricature of comfort. Such a thought only sparks bristling anger. Embers catch and flare into a monstrous wildfire. Jamie _knows_ that hurting herself is wrong. But as she grows older, Jamie would rather hurt herself than others. 

Maybe in another lifetime, Jamie can be soft. 

Or maybe not. Jamie doesn't believe in reincarnation, the afterlife, anything along those lines. She finds comfort in science, and how nothing is immune to entropy. Jamie's entire existence began as a mistake, and has mutated into being a parasite. But in death, Jamie can do good. Her body will decompose, and return to Nature.

So, Jamie will live with hands not being soft. It's not as if she cares about anyone touching her.

Until Dani Clayton.

When Dani presses her lips to the scarred wrist, Jamie wonders if this is what healing feels like.

It's not warm, glittery fuzziness like rainbows and butterflies on Get Well Soon cards. This healing is reminiscent of immersing hands into nearly hot water. Against Jamie's wrist, Dani's lips burn and incinerate. As if these scars are still raw, open wounds, and Dani's brutally cauterizing them with a kiss. Gentle lips scorch over swiftly pulsing veins. Kindness is a stranger to Jamie's body. It's more foreign than rough gravel, sharp objects, and blunt fingernails.

A serene drizzle patters at the windows. Rain that's been falling for days begins to lift tonight. It's a welcomed reprieve from peals of thunder accompanying a heavy downpour. Despite what should be a halcyon atmosphere, melancholy makes itself an uninvited guest in the bedroom. Jamie and Dani sit on the edge of their bed. From shoulders to knees to calves, the line of their bodies touch.

A single lamp casts an amber ochre glow. Contours of shadows blur and soften. Even under dim lighting, Dani's hair burns golden white. It's not uncommon for Jamie to go about her day, and discover a blonde strand on her clothes. Jamie winds the thread of sunlight around her index finger. She tries not to think about a day when there won't be anymore strands to discover. Or when there won't be anymore questionable coffee and tea. Or when this bed will be too big for one person.

Fingers brush over the lines marring Jamie's arm. A geometric abstraction gone terribly wrong. There's an underlying logic to these self-inflicted wounds. But it's a rationale Jamie will never share, not even with the woman she loves. Jamie doesn't want to poison anyone with the method to this cruel madness. When Jamie looks at her partner, there's a question in Dani's gaze. Those eyes speak a whole language of their own. Even before their first kiss, Jamie has been learning it.

"I don't--" Words catch and splinter inside Jamie's throat. Thorns serrate at vocal chords. A forceful cough does nothing to ease the scraping. "I don't have an answer for you. No flower metaphors this time." Jamie laughs. It sounds brittle even to her own ears. She swallows down a spoonful of copper.

"That's okay." All that glimmers in Dani's eyes is patience and sincerity. It carries through the sweet, mollifying notes of her voice.

"Is it?" Jamie almost winces. Quiet weariness and resigned despair grate at Jamie's ears. She's long outgrown this armor. But it dawns upon Jamie too late that metal may have grafted onto her skin. "I mean--" Another brittle laugh. More metallic aftertaste. "I'm not- I-- _fuck._ "

Jamie's hand closes into a tight fist. It opens. Closes. Opens. Closes. But there aren't bullies to knock out. No more wolves wearing childskin. All that survives is the eroded stranger in the mirror. A layer of jamais vu glazes over her own reflection. In the past, Jamie's slammed her fist into a mirror or two. Now, her knuckles only mutely bump against the glass. Not even leaving a thin crack. The older you get, the more tired you are about cleaning up messes. Especially your own. So, you avoid creating them.

That's the god awful truth about why Jamie doesn't hurt herself anymore. It has very little to do with accepting herself, taking care of herself, loving herself. It has everything to do with being too bloody exhausted to go through the steps of damaging her body, dealing with the aftermath, cleaning up the evidence, and hiding the crime.

When Jamie opens her hand, rose crescent moons mark her palm. "I'm not easy to love. And _you--_ " That single word carries all of Jamie's heart for the woman sitting beside her. "You shouldn't need to struggle anymore. You've already been through so much, Dani."

Jamie's burning. She will always be burning.

Dani grasps Jamie's hand.

"I don't want an easy love," Dani declares vehemently. The fierce light in her eyes doesn't falter in the slightest. "We don't love people, because it's convenient. Or simple. Or without struggle. We love people, because-- _we love people._ " It's spoken as the most absolute truth. With tears bringing out the colors of her eyes, Dani laughs. Bright, warm, twinkling. Her other hand touches the side of Jamie's face. "And I love you so much, Jamie."

Softly spoken words undo the last of Jamie's poorly done sutures. In silence, Jamie stares at her partner. Colors, shapes, everything in Jamie's vision melts under a Gaussian blur. More tears singe her eyes. Jamie used to believe tears evaporated out of her during adolescence. But Dani teaches her there's still one, or two, or a thousand tears left.

As tears burn down, Jamie begins to remember what her own skin feels like. She doesn't know when this armor turned into an Iron Maiden. It's tempting to fall deeper into the spiked torture chamber. The gravitational pull of guilt is tremendous.

Can lovers survive when they're both haunted?

After all, Dani's fighting against her own ghosts and demons. Water in the sink, water in the bathtub, water reflecting the lake at Bly Manor still calls to her. What lurks inside of Dani tightens its grip everyday. Jamie should be strong for both of them. Just like how she's been strong for the family she was born into, and the family she chose at Bly. The lingering taste of blood scratches inside Dani's mouth. Maybe Jamie should swallow down her pain, and keep it buried for longer.

In the light reflecting off matching rings, Jamie sees the most defiant thing in existence: love. She sees that same light in Dani's eyes. Even when there are days when Jamie doesn't recognize her own reflection, or fights the urge to obliterate it, Jamie still sees that light. It's the North Star guiding Jamie home, even while the alluring siren song of violence whispers in the air. Her body pleads for self-inflicted cruelty, her mind doesn't understand why, and her hands busy themselves with flowers.

Slowly, their fingers intertwine. Palms press together. Dani holds onto Jamie's hand so tightly that it almost aches.

Jamie lifts their clasped hands. She kisses Dani's ring. "Love you too, Poppins."

The favorite pet name beckons a smile onto Dani's face. Fingers trace over hairline fractures and rough ripples on Jamie's hand. The caricature of a Lichtenberg figure crawls up her arm. Not even the slightest aversion flickers in Dani's blue and brown eyes. When Dani's gaze meets hers, Jamie sees another silent question dwelling in them. 

Jamie counts her breathing. But Jamie can play Hide-n-Seek with herself for only so long. After a deep inhale, Jamie bites the bullet. Layer after layer of fabric draws away. Every time Jamie passes over a piece of clothing, Dani neatly folds it. Jamie would be fine if the clothes were just tossed carelessly. But Dani's so thoughtful with Jamie, even from when they first met.

Left only in undergarments, the air bites at her skin and scars. Whereas the lamp graces Dani with a golden halo, the light grants Jamie's body no mercy. It exposes atrocities crafted by Jamie's own hands. The sound of falling rain, and the occasional creaking of aged walls fill the silence. Jamie counts a few more breaths. After heaving an exhale, Jamie breaks the quiet.

"I was stunned by you."

Dani looks up from reading carved letters. She blinks through tears. "Stunned...?"

"The first time I saw you." Jamie touches the ring on Dani's left hand. "I know I must've been stand-offish when we met. But..." The calloused finger strokes the warm band. Once. Twice. Thrice. In sync with how Jamie counts her breathing. "It's not because I didn't like you. I--" Jamie's eyes drift towards the windows. In the sliver of space between drawn curtains, Jamie sees dark skies. "You were like the sun."

A smile tugs at the corners of Jamie's mouth. But after a moment, the smile begins to strain. "As I grew fonder of you, I grew more--" _'afraid.'_ But Jamie hastily scratches that word out. "--wary of disappointing you."

Dani turns her hand under Jamie's. Fingers fall into the empty spaces in-between. "How do you think you'd disappoint me?"

"Aren't you disappointed now?"

With wide eyes, Dani stares in silence. Slowly, colors of the sky and earth soften. Devotion and love melt into the mixture. "Oh, sweetheart." Dani reaches to hold Jamie's face in her hands. "I'm not disappointed in you. Not at all. Actually-" Dani's lips curve upwards. "I'm proud of you."

Although it's far into the night, sunrise breaks the horizon early through Dani's smile. The longer Jamie tries to memorize that warmth, the deeper heartache sinks into her chest. Never has Jamie known love to be so overpowering, so overwhelming. This love heals like nearly burning water cradling damaged hands.

"It's really brave that you let me in." Dani leans her head against Jamie's. A curtain of silken gold falls in cascading waves. "And that you're showing me these parts of yourself." Lightly, Dani's fingers touch scar tissue on her partner's hips.

"But it's all so--" Jamie reels in a shaky breath. Even without looking at her own body, Jamie can draw every scar from memory. _"Ugly."_

Soft rainfall carries through a lull of silence. Jamie fights the urge to glance at the bedroom door. If she doesn't run, then maybe Dani will. But Dani stays beside Jamie, her fingers whispering over fragmented words and repeated lines.

"The things that cause us pain is ugly. But _you,_ Jamie--" Dani lifts her gaze. She keeps her palm on a spiderweb of scars branding Jamie's thigh. "You're still beautiful to me. You don't need to soften your sharp edges. Or erase the ugly. And I--" She laughs breathlessly, not caring about the tears falling. "I love you." Hands run adoring strokes over Jamie's body. Every curve. Every plane. Every scar. "All of you."

Dani's laughter is such a bright, lovely sound. It's impossible for Jamie to resist the impulse to kiss her. Dani returns the kiss with a smile. It's tender, yet searing.

As the kiss deepens, they collapse onto the bed. Deep umber and honey gold strands pool around them. Dani throws off her faded blue jeans, then carefully unbuttons and folds the green flannel. She neatly sets aside the shirt borrowed from Jamie. Bodies draw nearer. Limbs tangle. For once, they lay close without darkness blanketing over them.

Jamie tucks a lock of hair behind her partner's ear. "I love you, too. Always."

When Dani smiles, Jamie returns it with one of her own. And when Dani's hand caresses down her side, Jamie leans into the touch. Jamie's heart thuds wildly in her chest. But she doesn't run. For the first time, Jamie lets someone map out her scars. Dani doesn't ask about their origins. When Jamie's ready, she can share them another day.

As rainfall sings in the air, Jamie reaches for Dani. An ocean of kindness rushes over their bodies. Dani presses a burning kiss onto each and every scar. Love blooms into scarlet blemishes, connecting lines of scar tissue into constellations. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this story ♡ I was deeply moved by the heartwarming support given to my first Jamie x Dani story, [ you have always been so brave, my love.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136226) I hope you enjoyed this piece as well :) Kudos, comments and such are always appreciated. Stay safe, and take care! ♡♡
> 
> REFERENCES / INSPIRATION:  
> \-- Fic title: ['A Sparrow Alighted Upon Our Shoulder' - Jóhann Jóhannsson](https://youtu.be/TYjME2xuMck)  
> \-- Series title: ['Carry You' - Ruelle ft. Fleurie](https://youtu.be/wSacp-aolpo)


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